


Let's (Quietly) Dream

by MachineQueen



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ashe/Dedue ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28056498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachineQueen/pseuds/MachineQueen
Summary: After the war, Ashe fulfills his dream and opens a restaurant in Fhirdiad serving Duscan dishes.For @mitzoco
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	Let's (Quietly) Dream

**Author's Note:**

> I loved the Ashe/Dedue supports and was thrilled to write this fic! Especially after seeing their end card.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Ideas from  @mitzoco
> 
> Come say hi  @MachineQueen4

_1_

Winter in Fhirdiad is very grey and very still. The roads are treacherous with ice. The gusting snow is thick enough to cover any street light. As soon as the storms blow in, the whole city goes into hibernation.

Ashe’s restaurant is quiet but it's not the lack of paying customers that bothers him. The restaurant will survive another winter. It’s survived worse. When Ashe first opened, slurs were graffitied on the door. This was encouraged by the local rag, catchily named the Fhirdiad Daily, which ran endless stories about Ashe’s past life as a thief and his association with the disgraced Lord Lonato. They also printed lie after lie about Duscan cuisine, claiming dogs and horse were on the menu. Luckily people became more skeptical when they claimed the wine, which was not even Duscan, contained the blood of orphaned children.

Let them waste time being angry to sell more papers. It’s nothing compared to the horrors Ashe faced in the war. Demented beasts with warped faces and twisted claws still haunt his nightmares.

Ashe does not defend himself to the Fhirdiad Daily. Instead, he hands out Duscan sweets. He boils herbs and leaves them by the window so the whole street smells fragrant and delicious. He makes sure children leave the restaurant holding paper bags full of pastries. The older ones dare each other to come inside and spend their pocket money. The street where he’s set up shop is on the edge of town with plenty of footfall. The yellow and magenta sign offers a bright splash of colour in the grey slush of the city.

The children, Ashe thinks, are the key. Maybe their parents will never change. But if the children grow up and think of his restaurant instead of the Tragedy of Duscur, things might be different. The people of Duscur might one day be celebrated instead of reviled.

“Why are you doing this?” Dedue once asked. Ashe had persuaded him to come and help move new furniture into the restaurant. It would have taken Ashe days to shift. Dedue had it all inside and arranged within a couple of hours. It was fun to watch him work up a sweat heaving tables. The restaurant began to take form. The furniture was placed either side of a path that led to the front counter. Ashe planned on a display for baked goods, hoping it would be enough to lure in hungry passersby.

For you, Ashe doesn’t say.

“It’s important. We have lost so much. I want to bring something back. Even if it’s only food.”

Dedue let out a long sigh through his nose. It was rare for him to be so expressive.

“I am worried.”

“I’ll use everything you taught me and leave the customers hungry for more. I’ll do your people proud. I promise.”

Dedue lay a gentle hand on Ashe’s shoulder. “I am not worried about your cooking abilities.”

Ashe gave him time to speak. Dedue put the utmost care into every word he said and they were always worth the wait. “Old scars do not easily heal. Many still hate Duscur and its people.”

“Maybe. But they won’t hate the food. It might make them reconsider.”

“Duscur is dead. What does it matter?”

“Don’t say that! How can you say that when- when you’re still here?”

Ashe’s eyes filled with tears. Dedue reached out to wipe them, slowly, carefully. “I just do not want people to treat you the way they treat me.”

Ashe lifted his jaw, adamant. “I was a general in the war. I can fight my corner. And I want to make the recipes you taught me. That’s my dream. That’s what I fought for in the end.”

“... If anyone can make this work, it is you.”

“So you’ll support me?”

“Always.”

Dedue was good as his word. Every week he would come to the restaurant and supervise Ashe’s cooking. At first, Ashe was overly self-conscious. But Dedue was never critical, only matter of fact. Add more pepper. Less salt. Use red onions. It wasn’t so different to being on cooking duty at Garreg Mach and Ashe loved every second. Sometimes they’d even argue. Dedue was surprisingly talkative when it came to his opinions on cooking oil.

Ashe’s favourite part was always the look on Dedue’s face after he performed a taste test. His usual stoic expression dropped away for something softer, more vulnerable. It offered a rare glimpse of the part of himself Ashe knew he tried to keep hidden away.

It’s been too long since Ashe saw him like that. The ache of missing Dedue is a constant pain, dull in the day and sharp in the night.

Ashe finishes sweeping the restaurant floor. He should go to bed. Tot up his takings, lock the door, extinguish the lights. Go up the stairs to his apartment and start a fire to stop him freezing in his bed. He lingers a minute more, hope ticking away with every second.

Dedue isn’t coming home tonight.

He should have been back a week ago.

Ashe prays to the Goddess. And every Duscan god he can remember the name of.

_1185_

_The ambush came out of nowhere. One moment, Ashe was alone at the back of the army’s formation, firing off arrows from a safe distance. The next, a wall moved behind him and a flurry of axe wielding fighters joined the fray._

_Ashe knew when he was beaten and attempted to run. But there were three fighters and they worked together to block his escape. No matter how he moved, he was stuck. He could take out one of them with arrows, but by the time he did the other two would be on him._

_It didn’t matter. He would go down fighting. It was the very least he could do with his last few precious minutes._

_**Fwip.** His arrow impaled the chest of the nearest man, who collapsed with a groan. Ashe ran, ran, ran -_

_Arms grabbed him from behind, a fist crunched into his stomach. His bow hand broke in one quick crack and the pain left him screaming out for mercy, mercy, please just end this -_

_The air hissed in the wake of an axe. Ashe thudded to the ground, bringing his hands up to protect his head. He could hear the weapon's swing and surely it would find him soon -_

_All he could do was try and roll away. His arm blazed with agony and getting back on his feet felt like an impossible task._

_“Ashe! Ashe!”_

_Dedue’s pleading face filled his vision. Something warm and damp trickled from his forehead. Blood. His blood? Ashe wasn’t sure._

_“You are safe. I have you.”_

_“I’m gonna pass out,” Ashe croaked._

_He was right._

_2_

Ashe starts awake when he hears the restaurant door slam. His room is still dark, without even a hint of the coming dawn. His first thought is that the readers of the Fhirdiad Daily have decided to make good on their threats. Really he should have known it was too optimistic to hope they’d leave him be.

He really, really wishes Dedue were here.

The bedroom is only big enough for a double bed, a nightstand and a wardrobe. Ashe slips out of his thick winter duvet and onto his tiptoes. He silently crouches next to the bed and slides a hand underneath. His hand hits a long plane of smooth metal - he follows it down until he finds the handle. There isn’t enough room to use a bow indoors but a sword should be fine. It’s the one he used to wear around Garreg Mach, still in pristine condition.

Armed and ready, he creeps over to the bedroom door. There’s someone moving outside, into the kitchenette. The thought occurs to him that he’s being paranoid; readers of the paper surely aren’t dedicated enough to stage a break in. It’s probably just thieves. Kids looking for a meal, just like he used to. He hears only one set of footsteps so he lowers his sword. Takes a breath. Pushes the door open.

The creak will alert the intruder of his presence.

“Listen, I know you’re there!” Ashe calls out into the dark. “If you want money or-”

“Ashe.”

That voice. Ashe lets the sword clatter to the floor. He’s moving without thinking, reaching out, eyes adjusting until he can see -

“Dedue. You made it.”

“I did not mean to frighten you by coming back so late but-”

Ashe wraps his arms around Dedue, tucking his head against his broad chest. Dedue hugs him close, firm, strong and reassuring.

“I missed you.”

“Me too.”

Ashe reaches for Dedue’s face. He brushes unmelted snowflakes from his eyebrows. He must have been wearing a cloak, but the blizzard has soaked him to the bone.

“You’re freezing. Come and sit by the fire.”

Dedue gets changed into dry clothes while Ashe boils a pot for tea. The tea is from the professor. She puts it in envelopes and posts it whenever she finds one she thinks Ashe will like. Dedue says she does it for all of the former Blue Lions class, as a way to show she is thinking of them. She isn’t one for writing letters.

They sit knee to knee on Ashe’s squashed sofa which is just a hair too small for two. Dedue’s presence seems to make everything in the apartment shrink. But it still feels empty without him there.

“I was so worried! Couldn’t you write if you were delayed?”

“It was not the fault of the other party. We took a wrong turn on our journey due to poor visibility. For a while, we were lost. His Majesty grew quite distressed. But then we found a village and they were able to set us on the right path.”

“It’s dangerous to travel at this time of year. I am surprised His Majesty agreed to such a journey while the snowstorms were blowing in.”

“Ashe…” Dedue gazes into his tea. “There is something I have not told you…I did not want to raise our hopes in case the mission ended in failure. So I thought it best not to say anything.”

“What is it? You are alright, aren’t you?”

“I am fine. I was the one who requested the journey. For Duscur. The survivors. There was a fleet of ships from the coastal villages carrying children, pregnant women and the elderly. I had thought the ships lost, but it seems they made it beyond Fodlan.”

“Oh,” Ashe breathes. This changes everything. Dedue has described Duscan ships before. They are large vessels, made to transport goods to Albinea and the continent to the north. If such ships carried people...there might have been hundreds on board.

“Yes. Once the survivors heard His Majesty fought beside a Duscan retainer and formally cleared their people of any wrongdoing, they wrote to House Kleiman. They want to reclaim their homes. Rebuild their lands.”

“Wow! So you went to meet with them?”

“The old village elders came by boat. One of them even recalled my family.”

“Oh, Dedue! I’m so pleased for you.”

“I am pleased too. There are many more of us than anyone thought. His Majesty wants to help rebuild the towns and cities that were lost. Duscur will be given another chance.”

Ashe smiles as wide as he can. “Good. As it should be. Nothing could make me gladder.”

It’s true. Ashe is thrilled at such good news. This is an amazing chance for Dedue to reconnect and build a new life for himself. At the same time, a rogue thought pops into the forefront of his mind. He is going to lose Dedue. After all these years, he can finally go home. The war is over, the king is safe; what is there to keep him in Fodlan?

“Shall we go to bed?” asks Dedue. He’s drained the teacup in record time.

Ashe nods. It is always so warm and feels so safe, tucked in next to Dedue. How he will miss it.

_3_

_1185_

_When Ashe woke, he wondered if he was about to meet the Goddess. His arm ached, pain jittering in every bone from wrist to elbow. For a while, he let himself drift in the shadow of consciousness. His mouth felt dry and dusty._

_Opening his eyes shouldn’t have been so difficult. But at last, curiosity got the better of him. His effort was rewarded with a view of the infirmary ceiling. He must have been transported there while unconscious._

_“You are awake. Good.”_

_Dedue. Ashe couldn’t see him, but he’d know his voice anywhere. What a relief - that meant His Majesty must have made it back safely too. Ashe wanted to reply but he only managed a cough. When he went to sit up, the pain in his arm sent him into a spasm._

_“Easy now.”_

_Dedue moved the pillows and Ashe managed to get himself upright. His legs felt numb from lack of use. Everything looked too bright, even with the curtains shut. When Dedue offered him water, Ashe tried not to guzzle. But he reached the bottom of the cup far too quickly. Dedue poured more. Hearing the liquid slosh made Ashe more desperate._

_Four cups later, he sighed and leant back into the pillows. “We really must stop meeting like this.”_

_“I agree. I much prefer cooking together.”_

_“I thought I was dead. There was nothing I could do, they came completely out of nowhere...”_

_“I heard the ambush. I came as soon as I could but - I am sorry. I could not stop them breaking your arm.”_

_Ashe tried to angle the limb in question for a better look but it remained stubbornly where it was. His only reward was another throbbing wave of pain._

_“Mercedes put it in a cast with a healing sigil on it. She said four weeks for the bones to mend, even with faith magic.”_

_Ashe sighed. “I guess I won’t be joining you on the next mission, then.”_

_“Do not be disappointed. We are not going anywhere pleasant.”_

_“It just feels wrong. To stay in bed while everyone else is fighting.”_

_“There will be other missions. The war is far from over. Empeoror Edelgard continues to rally her troops.”_

_“I know you’re right. I guess I’ll try and find some odd jobs in the monastery so I can at least do something useful.”_

_“I had an idea,” Dedue rose from his chair and picked something up from the floor. A heavy book. Ashe winced at the thought of trying to hold it with one arm. He’d need a table, maybe even a bookstand. The cover showed a drawing of an archer on horseback. The title - Bow Knights: A History of Techniques._

_Ashe felt his throat tighten and his eyes water. “You seem very confident in my recovery.”_

_“It is all but assured.”_

_“I’m glad but - my arm really, really hurts. I don’t even want to think about holding a bow right now.”_

_“You will want to again. And when you do, it would be better if you were able to move quickly. His Majesty does not wish to lose you to another ambush.”_

_“I see. Well, I am very grateful for his concern. I’m surprised he isn’t here. It’s rare to see you without him these days.”_

_Dedue’s eyes slid away. “He is safe in the monastery. So I thought I would come and check on you.”_

_“It means a lot that you did. I’m glad I didn’t wake up alone. Thank you.”_

_“Yes. You’re welcome.”_

_Ashe smiled. Was that a hint of a blush…? It was more endearing than he ever imagined. And he’d imagined a lot. “Can I see the book?”_

_Dedue pulled his chair closer to the bed, holding the book up so Ashe could see inside. There were diagrams showing how to sit on a horse and hold the bow in different positions._

_“This is perfect. I’ll be a knight in no time. Seriously, Dedue. Thank you.”_

_For a long moment, Ashe placed his good hand over Dedue’s. His hand was much smaller, his fingers narrower. Yet it felt like a perfect fit._

Ashe wakes early. A phantom pain shoots through his arm. If he looks closely, he can see lines left from long ago faith magic. He stops looking. It makes him feel squeamish. Dedue snores beside him. He's always been a deep sleeper. Ashe squeezes his hand, grateful beyond words to have him back.

It’s much more difficult to leave his bed when it’s warm, but there is food to prepare. By the time the evening comes around, the tagines will have had twelve hours on the stove and be spiced to perfection.

He expects Dedue to come down when he hears Ashe clanking the pans around. Sometimes he’ll offer to take over preparation while Ashe eats breakfast. But there is no patter of footsteps above Ashe’s head.

Ashe decides to investigate. He puts a cup of tea and two rounds of buttered toast on a tray. It isn’t like Dedue to sleep in.

“Good morning, sleepy head!” he calls out, using his body to shove the door open.

Dedue lets out a long groan. “No...It is not good. His Majesty will be - HAHCHOO!”

He is the very picture of misery - red-eyed, red-nosed and red-cheeked. Ashe makes a note to find him a clean handkerchief.

“You don’t look so good...”

“It seems I caught a cold.”

“Oh dear! Well, you were freezing by the time you got here... Maybe you should have stayed at the palace.”

“I wanted to see you.”

He says it with the same stony determination he applies to everything he does. Ashe sets the tray down on the bedside table. Brushes back Dedue’s hair and kisses his forehead. Dedue sniffles. “You will get sick if you kiss me.”

“It’s worth it.”

“I regret I do not have time for breakfast. I must get to the palace immediately.”

“Dedue, you can’t go to work. Not like this.”

“I can.”

He displaces Ashe from his lap. His feet hit the floor. When he stands he sways in place. “This is fine,” he says. Wobbles. Then collapses back onto the bed. Ashe catches him as best he can, for the bed’s sake as much as Dedue’s.

“I will send word to the palace that you’re not going in today.”

“But His Majesty-”

“He has plenty of people to protect him.”

“I do not want to let him down, not after he went on such a long and gruelling trip for me.”

“Dedue. He’ll understand. I bet he’s tired too.”

Dedue sneezes again. “One day. I’ll just need one day to recover.”

“We’ll see. Here, have some tea.”

Dedue swallows it slowly. Ashe checks the fire, plumps the pillows and makes sure Dedue eats the toast. He fetches a cold cloth to try and bring down Dedue’s temperature. Then encourages him to go back to sleep.

“Rest is the best medicine.”

“My mother used to say that...”

Ashe strokes Dedue’s hair. He knows Dedue still thinks of his family often. What would it feel like if Ashe discovered he had some far-off relation trying to find him? Shock? Relief? Happiness?

Ashe wants Dedue to be happy. Even if it means leaving Fhirdiad. Even if it means leaving Ashe, whose money is all tied up in the restaurant. More than anything, Dedue deserves a happy end and a new beginning. They can write and visit and still be together, even if their lives go in different directions.

(But even after telling himself all this, Ashe is not convinced...Maybe Dedue would prefer a Duscan partner?)

_1185_

_When Ashe was working at the wrecked monastery or on plans for the next battle, he often longed for bed. Yet now he was confined to it, he was quickly bored._

_At least he’d been moved out of the infirmary to the comfort of his own room. The books Dedue had brought him were neatly piled on the floor. He knew the theory of being a bow knight. But not being able to put any of it into practice was frustrating. His dream was so close, yet lay frustratingly out of his grasp._

_A knock at the door._

_“Come in!”_

_Dedue, laden with lunch. He always brought Ashe his meals. He said it was because he was helping out the kitchen staff, though Ashe secretly hoped there might be an ulterior motive. Today’s offering smelt very appetising. It was a rich ruby red, the colour too deep for it to be a simple tomato soup._

_“It’s not exact but... It is my own recipe. We called it a healing broth.”_

_“We?”_

_“My family. When we were sick, my mother used to make this.”_

_Ashe was touched. “You cooked for me? You really didn’t have to!”_

_Dedue handed him the bowl and spoon. Then he pulled the chair from the desk, took a seat and gazed at Ashe with an expectant look on his face._

_“...You’re making me nervous!”_

_“If you do not like it, please let me know. I will not be offended. It has a strong taste.”_

_“I will. You can count on me to be honest.”_

_Ashe took his first spoon. The liquid slid down his throat, warming him from the very core. It tasted sweet yet spicy. He couldn’t identify all of the ingredients. Curious, he went back for another spoon. Then he caught Dedue’s agonised gaze._

_“It’s delicious! Really, really good. It’s made me feel better already. What’s in it? I can taste cinnamon. And peppercorn?”_

_“It contains some herbs I grew myself. I had to make a number of trades to obtain the seeds I needed, but I found them in the end.”_

_“Duscan herbs?”_

_“I grew them in the greenhouse. I wanted to try cooking with them again.”_

_“As soon as I’m better, you have to show me. I want to know how to make this. And any other recipes you can think of.”_

_“Ashe, you do not have to be polite. It is enough to know you like it.”_

_“I’m not being polite. I really want to know.”_

_Dedue smiled. “Then we will make arrangements, once you are up and about.” He added a short phrase in a language Ashe had never heard before. The Duscan tongue, he presumed. But Dedue never spoke it, had never even mentioned it in passing before._

_“It means ‘Get well soon’. Or more literally, ‘May the gods of healing help you on your way.’”_

_“The gods of healing? Is there a story about them?”_

_“Yes. Many. Perhaps I can try and remember one for you. Though I am hardly a gifted storyteller.”_

_Somehow Dedue ended up spending the afternoon in Ashe’s room, recalling as many Duscan stories as he could. The gods of healing could be kind and also very, very cruel. A great hero tricked them into giving away the recipe for a prized healing potion. A great villain tried to trap one in a jar and ended up in it himself. They saved mortals on a whim, for amusement or in exchange for future wives and children._

_“One day,” Dedue said, “I wish to return to Duscur and tell these stories again.”_

_Ashe had never heard his voice filled with so much longing. “You will,” he said. Even though he had no idea if Duscur was even habitable. Even if it seemed as ridiculous as saying the war would be over next Tuesday._

_Dedue only smiled._

_The stories were very different from tales Ashe heard about the Goddess. The Goddess was the personification of everything good. She was generous, beautiful, friendly, kind and infallible. The Duscan gods were much more like regular people. They made stupid mistakes and obeyed their own wants and whims._

_Ashe realised he might be one of the last people to ever hear these stories. If only the Church of Seiros were more open to coexisting with other faiths…_

_If only Dedue would lean closer so Ashe could kiss him._

_If only a lot of things._

_4_

Ashe leaves Dedue to sleep and begins work. Only a few diners stop for breakfast and they mainly want things they can take away in paper bags. Pastries, flapjacks and warm bacon rolls are all popular choices. They are mainly traders, builders or employed at the palace. Some of Ashe’s old battalion occasionally stop by to see how he’s doing. They have families now. Wives and children.

Ashe would like children one day. He wonders if Dedue does too. He’s never asked.

Around midmorning, Ashe can hear some sort of kerfuffle going on outside. He stops kneading dough for tomorrow’s breakfast goods and heads to the front door. He can hear shouting and the heavy tread of soldiers.

His mind flashes Imperial red. He freezes with his hand over the door handle.

A knock. Ashe jumps out of his skin and leans on the door. No. They have already taken too much, they can’t have this, not now he’s finally found a home -

“Excuse me? Hello? His Majesty would like to request entrance to this establishment!”

King Dimitri’s voice rumbles, not quite close enough for Ashe to hear but unmistakably him. “And a cup of tea, if you please!”

Ashe exhales. Opens the door. King Dimitri stands there, three guards at his side.

“Your Majesty! M-my apologies. I heard the sound of boots. I thought it was...enemy soldiers.”

He feels silly admitting it. But there’s no other reasonable excuse for barring the door.

“Please do not worry, my friend. Old habits die hard. May we come in?”

Ashe steps aside. “If you would like to see Dedue, he is sleeping. He’s not doing so well.”

“I understand. I received your note. I do not need to see him but I thought he may appreciate a get well gift.”

One of King Dimitri’s guards produces a basket of flowers. It’s utterly lavish. Dedue will certainly appreciate the spray of golden lilies and the nests of blue roses, each bloom standing tall and proud.

“Thank you. It’s very kind of you.”

“If Dedue needs anything please let me know straight away. It is not often he is sick, so I will relish the chance to do any favours for him.”

“Perhaps just write him a note reassuring him it is perfectly acceptable to stay in bed?”

“Certainly!”

Ashe offers him tea and refreshments. It has been a couple of months since he last spoke with the king. Though Ashe tries his best, he can never quite relax around King Dimitri. Perhaps that was par for the course once you’d seen a man snap human bone with his bare hands, as if it were nothing more than a breadstick.

Ashe settles the guards at their own table with their own cups of tea and his best almond croissants. They are made to one of his father’s old recipes.

King Dimitri asks if he can come into the kitchen. There’s a little table in there, but just like Dedue King Dimitri’s presence seems to make furniture shrink. He reassures Ashe four times that he’s perfectly comfortable before Ashe is satisfied.

Ashe begins to brew another pot of fresh tea. The professor’s envelopes of tea leaves come in handy once again - he doesn’t know if his regular brews are fancy enough for a king.

“I should inform you,” His Majesty says, “that I made a quick stop at the offices of the Fhirdiad Daily before I travelled here. Just to make sure they know, in no uncertain terms, that this restaurant has the palace’s full, unequivocal approval.”

“You...you know about that?”

“Dedue told me. He was worried about leaving you on your own.”

Ashe hides a wince and hopes no one at the Fhirdiad Daily tried to protest. Probably not. King Dimitri doesn’t walk around in armour anymore, but his size and demeanour still rank him at above average on the intimidation scale. He wears a fur lined coat almost as big as he is in royal blue with gold stitching. It is pristine and smells like soap.

(Dedue told Ashe the professor burned the king's ratty old coat as soon as the war was won. Her reasoning was that a king who smelt like dead animals wasn’t likely to rank well among the people and especially not with the remains of the Adrestian Empire. His Majesty was incensed for the rest of the week, until she found a replacement.)

“Thank you, Your Majesty. You didn’t need to do that.”

“Nonsense. It is the very least I can do. Did Dedue tell you about our journey to Kleiman?”

“He did. It’s...great. Really great that there are more survivors out there.”

Ashe hides his face, busying himself with the teacups. He can’t remember the king’s favourite so he picks one at random and hopes for the best.

“Indeed. We will be conducting a series of talks to try and arrange the best way forward for all parties. It is important to me that those who wish to return home are free to do so.”

“It’s nice to have some good news. I’m really pleased.”

“Oh? You don’t sound pleased.”

Ashe swallows. Foolish, really, to think he could hide anything from King Dimitri. He’s surprisingly astute for someone who only managed to growl at people for several months.

“Ashe, I know I’m your king but I’m also your friend. You can talk to me. Especially about Dedue.”

Ashe takes a breath. Pours the tea. “I’m just...so scared we’ll lose him.”

The sentence hangs in the air as he fusses with the teacups, making sure they’re not too full. He sets King Dimitri’s down and uses his own to warm his hands. His Majesty takes a thoughtful sip. “Have you told him this?”

“How can I ask him to stay for me when he could go home? And be with his family again?”

“Dedue’s parents and siblings are still dead. They may be of the same land, but I do not believe any of the survivors are his family.”

“But they’re the closest thing he’s got. Right?”

“That depends on the way you look at things. Even though we are not of the same blood or the same land, I consider Dedue as my family. Do you not do the same?”

Ashe frowns. Family to him means the siblings who visit and demand he serve his father’s special fried fish, just like when they were kids. It means Lord Lonato, who taught him how to hunt game with a bow and treated him like another son.

He isn’t sure where Dedue fits in. They love each other. Is that the same as being family?

“We’re not...bound together in the same way. It’s different.”

“Are you sure? Who knows you best? Who is there for you when you need them?”

Ashe thinks about Dedue arranging the furniture in the restaurant. He thinks of Dedue standing next to him at the stove, passing him ingredients.

“Talk to him, Ashe. You’ll soon see there is no reason to fret.”

_5_

_1185_

_Ashe’s recovery was quicker than expected. He was soon perfecting the art of firing a bow and riding a horse at the same time. The only downside to the arrangement was that Dedue would not come near him while he was on horseback. He didn’t want to spook the poor thing, he said, especially not while Ashe was sitting in the saddle._

_Ashe scrubbed imperial blood from his armour for the fifth day in a row. The ideal knighthood he’d dreamed of had never involved so much fighting. It wasn’t like in stories, where every death had meaning. He’d imagined less killing people and more slaying monsters and rescuing princesses._

_(Though good luck to anyone who tried rescuing Emperor Edelgard. She seemed determined to march to her doom, no matter how many of her allies fell)_

_At least he was a bow knight, so he didn’t have to look the enemy soldiers in the eye before taking their lives. Restless, he paced his tent for a while, hoping to tire himself out. Even though the battle was done, he couldn’t calm down. His heart beat frantically. He knew he was safe. His body refused to believe it._

_There was only one person who could help. The problem was Dedue would be tending to the king. In the end, Ashe decided he was desperate enough not to care. The last thing he wanted was to draw the king’s ire. But he knew he’d never be able to settle on his own._

_The king’s tent lay in the centre of their camp. Ashe trod carefully through the chaos of horses, campfires and fellow knights. No one halted him as he approached. Close to the tent’s entrance, Dedue tended a small fire. He turned over the rabbit he was cooking. The smell made Ashe’s mouth water. He’d forgotten to eat._

_“Ashe,” Dedue’s eyes widened. “Are you well? Is something wrong?”_

_“I-” Ashe didn’t know what to say. Why had he come here?_

_“Do you wish to see His Majesty?”_

_“No! Please do not disturb him! I-I actually came to see you.”_

_“Me?”_

_Ashe could feel himself blushing. He hadn’t thought about what to say. All he really wanted was to sit quietly in Dedue’s presence. Then he’d become calm and ordered and ready to fight another day. But how could he ask for that without sounding half demented?_

_“Sit down,” said Dedue. “You look pale.”_

_Ashe sat, hoping King Dimitri wouldn’t come and shout at him for taking his spot by the fire. His Majesty’s temper seemed easier to rile up these days. His stomach rumbled. He cringed, but Dedue smiled. “You may eat with the king and I tonight. There is plenty of food.”_

_“That’s very kind, but I really can’t take anything intended for the king.”_

_“You can share my portion. How about that?”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Quite sure.”_

_Dedue fetched Ashe a cup of water. Then continued cooking. Watching him work took Ashe’s mind away from the battle. As if by magic, Dedue slowly turned grim-looking rations into a feast fit for royalty._

_“I didn’t think being a knight would be this hard,” Ashe mumbled._

_Dedue neatly peeled a potato with a pocket knife. Ashe gazed intently, lulled by the careful rhythm of his hands._

_“What did you think it would be like?”_

_“I suppose I thought it would have more… honour.”_

_“You are fighting against a nation who attacked Garreg Mach and tried to abolish the very foundations Faerghus is built on. If we do not fight, we will lose and His Majesty will die.”_

_“It isn’t that I don’t want to protect the king. I just wish there was another way. Couldn’t we talk to Emperor Edelgard and resolve all this?”_

_“I do not think she will listen. But I believe His Majesty is thinking along similar lines.”_

_Ashe shook his head. “All my life I wanted to be a knight. But I’m not sure what I want anymore.”_

_“It strikes me as a difficult profession for someone who dislikes violence.”_

_“I think I want to do something that makes people happy. Something that brings them together.”_

_Dedue replaced the cooked rabbit with the potatoes. “You said your father was a chef.”_

_“Both him and my mother. They worked morning, noon and night but they really loved it…Their restaurant meant everything to them.” Ashe trailed off. “Oh. Well. Surely you should be the chef and not me? You’re the best cook in the monastery, after all.”_

_“No, I am not.”_

_Ashe frowned. “There is no one better.”_

_“There is you. Did you not notice the queues in the dining hall?”_

_“I suppose they do get quite long.”_

_“Only when you’re in the kitchen.”_

_Ashe thought back to Garreg Mach. No matter how much he cooked, there never seemed to be enough. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sampled his own food. Every pan, every tray and every plate came back to the kitchen scraped clean._

_Maybe Dedue was on to something. ‘Chef Ashe’ had a good ring to it too. He could even see himself wearing the white hat. His parents would have been proud of another chef in the family. And his brother and sister always loved it when he cooked for them._

_On that dank, dark, hopeless night, Ashe began to dream._

Ashe hopes he’s made the broth right. It’s been a couple of years since he last tasted it. Dedue taught him how to grow precious Duscan herbs on the windowsill, using a spell to keep them warm in the frigid Fhirdiad air. The herbs are probably warmer than Ashe is.

When he pushes open the bedroom door, he sees Dedue is still asleep. That’s OK - he needs it. Ashe can keep the bowl warm until he wakes.

He turns back. Dedue rolls over and mumbles something in his sleep, along with a noise of distress. Ashe frowns. He creeps closer, worried but not wanting to wake him unless absolutely necessary.

“Mo-ther? Mother?”

Ashe’s heart turns over. He reaches for Dedue’s hand. It curls round his immediately.

“N-no! Not again! No!”

Dedue begins to thrash in his sleep, rocking the bed. Ashe deposits the bowl on to the floor and gives him a gentle shake. He doesn’t wake. Ashe shakes him harder. He knows how awful it is to be caught in a nightmare with no escape. They’re common amongst war survivors. He’s experienced plenty of his own.

“Dedue! Dedue!”

With a start, he wakes. He grabs Ashe and pulls him onto the bed. Ashe scrambles to balance. Throwing his arms around Dedue’s neck seems to work. Dedue holds him so tight it becomes hard to breathe.

“D-Dedue!”

He must realise he’s crushing Ashe. His grip loosens. His face is sticky with sweat and his breathing is stuffy from the cold.

“Are you OK?” Ashe asks. It comes out muffled from where his face is buried in Dedue’s vast shoulder. He realises he hasn’t ever seen Dedue like this before. It’s usually Ashe cowering from dreadful visions of ghost soldiers or the long claws of Emperor Edelgard.

“S-sometimes,” Dedue says, a tremble in his tone. “I get scared you will not be here when I wake up.”

“Oh, Dedue.” Ashe clutches him as hard as he can. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“I hope so.”

They spend several minutes huddled together, listening to each other breathe.

“You were calling for your mother,” Ashe says, keeping his voice as gentle as he can.

“I could smell her cooking.”

“Ah. Perhaps you were smelling the broth I made.”

Ashe indicates the bowl, which he left on the floor in his haste to get to Dedue. He passes it over and climbs to the other side of the bed. He’s not ready to leave his partner’s side yet. Any customers will have to wait.

Softly, Ashe repeats the phrase Dedue once said to him when he was bedbound and hopeless. ‘May the gods of healing help you on your way.’

Dedue laughs. A rare and precious thing. Ashe wishes he could listen to it forever. “You just said ‘May the trees of feeling help you on your way’.”

“W-well,” Ashe can feel his skin turning the colour of salmon. “Tell me how to say it properly!”

So Dedue does. And Ashe tries his best. Luckily Dedue tells him his Duscan broth is much better than his language skills. “You’ve used a mix of herbs that puts your own spin on the recipe. It is truly delicious. I do not believe you require any more tutelage from me.”

Ashe’s heart sinks. “Oh. Right.” He tries not to look hurt.

Dedue reads him easily. They know each other too well. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s selfish of me, I know. But I don’t want you to go.”

“Go? Go where?”

“Duscur. His Majesty is fixing it so survivors can go home. Just like you always dreamed.”

Dedue is quiet for a moment. He sets the empty broth bowl aside.

“Not all wish to return to Duscur. And my home is here in Fhirdiad.”

Ashe blinks, not sure he’s heard right. “I thought you’d always wanted to go back.”

“At one time, that was my wish. But is it not also true that at one time, you wished to be a knight?”

“So your wish changed? Just like mine did?”

Dedue nods. “Now all I want is to serve my king and eat your cooking.”

“W-well. I am sure that can be arranged. And I’m honoured that I get to be so important to you.”

“Yes. You and King Dimitri are my family.”

“Ah. He-he tried to tell me that. When he stopped by.”

Dedue’s expression becomes urgent. “His Majesty was here? Why did you not wake me?”

“You needed to sleep! He left a note. And a huge basket of flowers.”

Ashe brings in the note and the flowers. He sets the flowers on the windowsill so they can enjoy the sun. Ashe can see large ink blots on the back of the note where King Dimitri pressed too hard on the quill. He’s lucky he’s king and has other people to draw up his paperwork.

“A week off,” Dedue says, his forehead wrinkling. “That’s too long.”

“No, it isn’t!” protests Ashe. “You couldn’t even get out of bed this morning. Stay here and let me look after you.”

“...Very well. You have a stubborn look on your face.”

“You’re one to talk about being stubborn!”

Ashe kisses him. He tastes like the broth, which is very good indeed. Ashe should add it to the menu. Maybe with some flatbread. Or he could make rolls. Or-

Dedue intensifies the kiss. All thoughts of cooking fly straight out of Ashe’s head. And he’s happy.

_1187_

_One miserable, drizzly day, Dedue came in to Ashe’s new restaurant as it was about to close. There was mud on his cloak and dark circles under his eyes. Just looking at him made Ashe feel tired. And quietly concerned. Yet at the same time, he was thrilled. Having Dedue at his restaurant as a paying customer meant more than words could express._

_“The new spiced tagine,” he told Ashe, fumbling for his coin pouch._

_“You don’t have to pay,” Ashe said quickly. “Put your money away.”_

_Dedue looked like he wanted to argue. But he didn’t. He collapsed into one of the chairs. “Many thanks.”_

_“I won’t be a minute.”_

_As Ashe headed to the kitchen, he realised he had the same twitchy anxiety exams used to give him. Which was ridiculous. Dedue wasn’t going to give him a mark out of ten. But for some reason Ashe couldn’t put his finger on, this meal felt important._

_Ashe usually cooked tagines in a big pot which he kept warm on the stove. The spiced stews were popular, and even more so on cold, wet days. There was enough left for two servings. Carefully, he ladled it into dishes. Then he reached for a bottle of wine. Not Duscan, unfortunately. Maybe he could ask Dedue for beverage ideas._

_Ashe gently placed the dish in front of Dedue. His heart beat fast. “Would it be alright if we ate together?”_

_Dedue nodded. “Of course.”_

_“I’ll just lock up. It’s past closing time.”_

_“Apologies. I did not mean to disturb you at such a late hour. I just – I need this. It has been a difficult day.”_

_Dedue politely waited for Ashe to join him before picking up his spoon. It felt strange not to have His Majesty there, clacking his specially reinforced chopsticks. Or the professor happily digging into freshly caught fish. Ingrid and Sylvain always squabbled, forgetting to close their mouths and chew. Meals without all of the Lions were certainly much quieter. And cleaner._

_Ashe watched Dedue’s face as he took his first mouthful. He closed his eyes before swallowing, savouring the taste on his tongue._

_Ashe uncorked the wine and poured for both of them. A few drops sloshed onto the table thanks to his unsteady hand. He watched Dedue take another slow spoonful of food. Impatience won over etiquette. He had to know._

_“Is it good?”_

_Dedue opened his eyes. Reached across the table. His large hand cupped Ashe’s chin. Ashe’s cheeks coloured. His already fast heart became relentless. How often had he longed for this moment? And yet now it was here… He had no idea what to do._

_“May I?” asked Dedue._

_A quick nod. Ashe didn’t trust himself to form words._

_Dedue leaned over the table, over the bowls. His lips were on Ashe’s for only a second but it was enough to leave Ashe dazed and giddy. Their first kiss._

_“You taste like home,” Dedue told Ashe._

_Ashe kissed him again, his heart full of hope. The war was over. He was a chef. And he was very much in love._


End file.
